


all the other things

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Dean Winchester's Appallingly Low Self Esteem, Dom Castiel (Supernatural), Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Gentle Dom Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Panties, Praise Kink, References abuse, Rimming, Sex Worker Castiel (Supernatural), Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: Cas isn’t prepared for this. There was training when he started with Specialty Services Company, but not the kind of training that would make him ready for easing Dean out from under the hands that have hurt him. There’s something hidden but singing under there, if Cas is good enough.





	all the other things

**Author's Note:**

> this is that trope where everyone is born a dom or a sub. i hear it's a more popular AU in other fandoms, but here we are. 
> 
> a lot of people helped & cheerleaded and i'm thankful to all of you, but thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com) for the beta.

People usually flinch when they see Dean’s face, and he is already shaking apart, so he keeps his eyes lowered when the door opens. He doesn’t want to know what it would feel like to be looked at like  _ that _ by a dom right now. 

“Hello.” 

Dean looks up. This guy is painfully handsome, a little smile quirking on his mouth. “Hey,” Dean says, shifting on his feet. “I’m Dean.” 

“Cas.” He reaches out and they shake hands, then he steps back. “Come in.” 

Dean pulls off his boots and leaves them on the mat by the door. When he looks up, Cas is appraising him, solemn. “I’m almost at the end of a chapter in my book,” Cas says. “I hate to leave it like that. Come sit.” 

There’s a cushion on the floor and Cas drags it in front of the couch, nods at it for Dean to sit down, sits on the couch in front of him with his knees on either side of Dean’s shoulders. Dean starts to reach for Cas’s belt buckle, but Cas stops him. “Just relax.” 

Dean’s tense staring up at him, but Cas really does pick up a tablet from the coffee table. He strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair and says, “This is going to bore you to death, but I need you to wait for me.” 

Dean nods, and Cas starts reading, still petting his hair.  _ “A tree is a living thing. It only becomes wood when we begin to think of all the other things you could carve out of it. And, of course, you can carve a piece of wood into almost anything…” _

Here, at a dom’s feet, both of them fully clothed but being touched gently, Dean is lulled so easily by the rumble of Cas’s voice. He just waits, resting his head against the inside of Cas’s knee, warm and hazy already. 

The chapter must be finished, because Cas goes quiet for a moment. “We need to go over your paperwork, but you seemed like you needed this first.” 

Dean nods and takes a slow breath, leaning away from Cas. “I did everything already.” 

“I want to go over your preferences one last time. This is for you, so I need to get it right. Sit on the couch, please.” 

Dean pulls himself to his feet and sits, not close enough to touch Cas, but Cas leans over so their shoulders press together and hands the tablet over to Dean. “Review, please.” 

Dean flushes — he knows what it says — and skims to the bottom quickly. “Ok, it’s fine.” 

Cas sets the tablet aside and kisses Dean. Soft and full, not rough and taking. Hand on the side of Dean’s face, caressing across rough scars. No one ever touches Dean’s face. 

“Come with me to the bedroom,” Cas says, standing. Dean follows him, unable to deny even if he wanted to. “Take off your clothes, please.” 

Dean strips, trying not to feel self-conscious under Cas’s eyes. When Dean stands bare, Cas says, “Thank you.” 

Cas circles him, his gaze as heavy as a physical touch. Heavy enough to cause goosebumps over Dean’s skin. “You’re lovely,” Cas says. 

Dean flinches and turns his face away. Of course. Doms can’t help but hurt him, however they can, and Dean  _ needs  _ too badly to wait for another appointment. 

Cas turns Dean’s head with a gentle touch to his chin and gives him a quiet kiss. “I don’t say things I don’t mean. Do you trust me?” 

“Yes, sir,” Dean whispers. 

Cas smiles. “I appreciate what a good boy you are, but ‘Cas’ is fine.” 

“Yes, Cas.” 

“Are you being impertinent now?” Cas says, stern, but Dean catches the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. He’s teasing, and Dean doesn’t understand why. 

Cas guides Dean onto his back on the bed. Dean’s tense again, and Cas presses a hand to his chest, palm right over his heart. “I know no bondage, but I’d like you to hold the headboard.” 

Dean hadn’t paid attention to the headboard when he came in, but it’s slatted cherrywood, solid and heavy, the kind that looks like a farmhouse family heirloom. It’s unexpected and it’s pretty, smooth under Dean’s hands. Being obedient helps. Eases him. 

“Good,” Cas says, and it almost feels like a caress. 

He knees onto the bed, still fully clothed, and leans down to kiss Dean. Soft and full again, a hand stroking through his hair. When they part, he sits on his heels and looks Dean over. “Are you sure you don’t want the whole night?” 

“No, I — uh,” Dean says, stupidly ashamed that he can’t afford Cas for that long, and even worse that he can’t give Cas something he wants. “Two hours is all.” 

Cas nods, a little twist to the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I should hurry, then,” he says, fingertips skimming down Dean’s chest. 

“Whatever you want,” Dean says, and means it. 

“Oh, what I  _ want  _ is to play with you for days,” Cas says. Dean swallows. “Tonight I’ll settle for fucking you so good that you cry.” 

Dean’s eyelashes flutter. He knows what that means, and he hates it, but he loves that he hates it, because that’s what his dom wants. He’ll cry, and he’ll be happy for it, glad in the moment for the blessing of submission, and then later he’ll cry alone. 

Cas kisses him. Dean flexes his fingers on the headboard, and Cas cradles his jaw, deepens his kisses slowly. Dean’s dick is even interested, which doesn’t happen that much during this kind of thing. 

“Relax and let me take care of you,” Cas murmurs. “That’s a command from your dom, if you missed it.” 

He must know that everything he says is a command as far as Dean’s concerned, but Dean just nods and tries to relax. One muscle at a time seems the way some people do it, but that’s difficult when Cas is kissing down Dean’s neck. No teeth, just soft. His hand is distracting too, even though it’s just cupping Dean’s hip now, big and warm. 

Cas’s voice is still soft and he says, “Close your eyes.” Dean shuts his eyes instantly. “Good.” 

Cas nudges Dean’s chin up to kiss along his jaw. Cas is on his good side, the side that’s clean-shaven, and Dean tries, truly, to relax into his touch. 

“I asked you to relax,” Cas says. 

“Sorry,” Dean says, the panic clawing at his lungs making it hard to get even a single word out. He’ll have to leave. Cas will tell him to leave. 

“Shh,” Cas says, hand sliding up Dean’s chest to cradle his face again, where it’s rough under his palm, and he kisses the rise of Dean’s shoulder and across his collar bone to give a soft nip to Dean’s throat. Dean’s fingers tighten around the spindles of the headboard. 

Usually they just hurt him. Dean likes that too, sometimes, but not when they don’t even bother to share pleasantries before getting to it. Dean’s a failure of a sub because he wants more. A kiss, a smile that’s not smug about the marks left on Dean. 

“Shh,” Cas says again, his kisses moving down Dean’s sternum. “Stop thinking and come back to your body for me. Do you like this, or would you prefer a beating? Tell me.” 

Dean licks his lips. Cas’s hand is still on his face, and he doesn’t mean to, but he nuzzles into it. “I like this.” 

“Me too,” Cas says. He sounds like he’s smiling, but Dean keeps his eyes closed. He can do that at least. 

Cas’s hand drifts away from Dean’s face, and his touches and kisses become aimless, just wandering over Dean. Learning him, without hesitation at the bad parts. 

The flicker of arousal disappeared at some point, and even Cas’s touches aren’t bringing it back, even the wet kisses down the line of soft hairs under his belly button. Cas doesn’t say anything about it, though he does cup Dean’s softened cock in his hand for a moment, the same kind of exploratory touch without intent. 

He kisses the softest parts of Dean. He pulls Dean’s legs apart and crawls between them just to kiss the inside of Dean’s knee, nuzzle up the tender inside of his thigh. There’s a different type of scars there, but Cas doesn’t mention them. 

He mouths gently at Dean’s cock, but it’s just a strange sort of kiss, and then he moves back up Dean’s body until they’re kissing. “You’re such a good boy,” Cas says, and Dean shudders. “So lovely. I could do this all night.” 

Dean’s heart falls crooked at the reminder that his time will be up soon. “How much longer do I have?” 

“About twenty minutes. I was hoping to keep kissing you, but is there something else you need? I can’t have you leaving if you’re just going to crash tomorrow.” 

“No, it’s — it’s good,” Dean says. It is. He’s coming back to himself, being himself again. More than just a disaster vibrating out of his skin for a dom’s attentions. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Cas says, punctuating with a kiss, “because I,” kiss, “really like,” kiss, “kissing you,” and then a longer kiss, tongues sliding against each other. 

Cas’s jeans are soft where he’s pressed between Dean’s thighs. No surprise that Cas isn’t hard. Just looking at Dean is a boner killer. 

“You’re tense again,” Cas says. “Look at me.” 

Dean opens his eyes slowly, blinking against the light. Cas’s face is so close and so gorgeous it makes Dean ache. 

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says, “and you’re so good, and I don’t want you to let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

Dean nods, because that’s what he does when a dom tells him to do something, even if it seems impossible.

Cas kisses him again, and keeps kissing him until a soft  _ ping, ping, ping  _ interrupts them. “Damn,” Cas says. “Five minute warning.” 

“You could keep kissing me?” 

“I could,” Cas says. “You can let go of the headboard now and touch me, but only if you want to.” 

Dean gets his hands in Cas’s hair as soon as the next kiss comes. It’s too unruly for how soft it is, and Dean clenches his fingers in it, his other hand running down Cas’s back. He’s warm and strong, even though a t-shirt. 

_ Ping, ping, ping.  _

This must be the part where Dean cries. Cas pulls back with an apologetic smile, runs his hands down Dean’s thighs from hip to knee, squeezes there before climbing out of bed. He picks up Dean’s clothes and hands them to him before leaving the room. 

Specialty Services Company doesn’t allow tips to it’s providers, which is for the best because Dean doesn’t know how the hell he would figure out how much to tip Cas anyway. He rates Cas five stars. 

Cas gives him a smile and a squeeze to the shoulder before Dean leaves.

 

Dean’s settled the next day — comfortable in his skin in a way he hasn’t been for a long time — and he makes it all the way through work to collapsing on his couch with Netflix without a single dom trying to tell him what to do. A good day. 

He stopped himself from thinking about Cas all day, but he indulges himself now. He wonders if that’s what it would be like all the time if people could look at him without pity or disgust. He wonders if Cas would look at him like that again. He misses being kissed, not quite twenty-four hours later, already wanting again. 

His phone buzzes. It’s an annoying marketing email from Specialty Services asking if he wants to schedule his next appointment. He stares at the notification until his screen goes black again. He should wait until he really needs it. That’s what people do. No one’s pathetic enough to make another appointment right away. 

Dean makes an appointment. He chooses Cas. There’s an opening the next night, just an hour, but that’ll be enough to remember that he’s not interested in other people unless he’s subcrashing. 

The next buzz is an email saying,  _ Congratulations! Your Appointment is Scheduled.  _

 

Cas opens the door with his eyes down, embarrassed and not just avoiding looking at Dean. He steps back for Dean to enter the house and says, “I’m so sorry, Dean. I misread the situation. I’ll contact my manager and make sure you’re comped for both of your appointments and —” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Cas’s eyes dart to Dean. Dean is stumbling on uneven ground, not sure how to react to a dom unsure and apologizing to  _ him.  _ Cas says,  “You’re the kind of person who waits as long as you can before seeing a dom. You’re back already, so I know I didn’t help you.” 

“That’s not it,” Dean says. 

“What is it then?” 

A question, not a directive. Dean stands there in his boots, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You helped. Too much, I guess, since — well. Like you said. I’m back.” 

Cas’s smile is quiet and bright, like a sunrise in the country. “Oh? Care to extrapolate?” 

Dean shrugs. 

“I’m sure you’ve been dying to know more about the history of debt.” 

That must have been the book, though Dean has no memory of the actual words, just the warm grate of Cas’s voice. “Oh, yeah. Obviously.” 

“Clothes off, down to your boxers, and sit on the cushion for me.” 

Cas leaves the room with gently padding feet. Dean rushes to comply and is stepping out of his jeans when Cas comes back into the living room with his tablet. Dean goes down to his knees with a thump, and Cas smooths his hair. “Careful there.” 

_ Careful there,  _ like it matters what happens to Dean. 

“You don’t have to kneel. Get comfortable.” Once Dean has shifted to sit cross-legged between Cas’s legs, Cas starts to read.  _ “In this sense, all words are arbitrary tokens of agreement. So, of course, is money…”  _

Cas strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair as he reads. Caresses down the side of his neck. Flashes him a quick smile without losing his place in the book.

Dean feels hazy, like waking up from an afternoon nap after a day at the beach. He rests his head against Cas’s knee and closes his eyes. It’s good, being touched idly, and he gives himself over to Cas.

Cas’s voice stutters and he gives up on the book. “You’re beautiful, Dean. I’m glad you chose me.” 

Dean’s never felt like this. Powerful, serene. Belonged. He’ll believe the lie because he wants it so badly. 

“Would you prefer for me to keep reading, or would you like to come up here so I can kiss you?” 

Dean blinks. Choices are hard when he’s like this, at a dom’s feet. “The kissing.” 

“Come up here, please,” Cas says, and guides Dean to straddle across his lap. 

Cas touches Dean’s face and pulls him in for a kiss, and then another, his other hand warm on Dean’s lower back, urging him closer. Dean couldn’t say how long they kiss, because he’s gone on Cas, because he’s gone on feeling treasured by a dom. 

“Sweetheart,” Cas murmurs, so close Dean can still feel his breath against his lips. “It’s ok to need this.”

Dean’s brain screams black and white static, and Cas just nuzzles and kisses down his jaw while he fights it down. “I — I —” 

“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. There are doms who would be proud to call you theirs.” 

“Don’t,” Dean says, even though the words rip his lungs as they come out. 

“You don’t want to hear how happy I was when you came up on my calendar? Right before I was angry at myself for not taking care of you right. You were in a lot of pain.” 

_ Ping, ping, ping.  _

Dean’s shoulders hunch and he goes to scramble off of Cas’s lap, but Cas stops him with hands around his hips. “Would you like to stay?” 

A question. A choice. “I can’t afford to,” Dean says, flushing. 

“My last appointment ends in about five minutes. I would like to hang out with you after, if you’re not busy.” 

Dean sneaks a glance at Cas to see a tiny smile teasing his mouth. “I’m not busy.” 

“Wonderful. I plan to spend the next three and a half minutes kissing this gorgeous sub in my lap, and then we’ll do something.” 

Cas tilts his chin, a directive for a kiss even without saying it, and Dean is ruined for the kind of kisses he’s known before, cringing ones. Cas touches and kisses and smiles without hesitation. 

_ Ping, ping, ping.  _

“Appointment’s over,” Cas says. “Have you eaten?” 

“No,” Dean says. 

“What’s your favorite food?” 

“French apple pie.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. Favorite meal.” 

“Bacon cheeseburger and fries.” 

Cas smiles and gives him a soft, quick kiss. “Out of my lap, please. You can dress if you would be more comfortable.” 

Cas leaves the room on padding bare feet. Between his absence and the task of re-dressing, Dean’s head clears a little. Clears a lot, actually. It’s like riding the edge of the perfect amount of stoned, where everything is a little easy, a little heavy, but his mind is sharp and alert. 

Dean’s going back to his knees on the cushion when Cas comes back in the room, squinting at his phone. “How do you feel about —  _ oh.”  _

Dean doesn’t look up, bites his lip as he focuses on Cas’s careful breathing. At this moment, he knows that he could be  _ good _ for a dom that cherishes him. 

“Dean,” Cas says, sounding choked. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“What would you rather me do?” 

Cas sits down on the couch next to Dean, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Do you want to continue?” 

Dean nods, fists tightening behind his back. 

“I have some rules.” Dean nods again. “The first is that you don’t lower your eyes. They’re so pretty, and I’d like to be able to see them.” 

“Yes, Cas,” Dean says, 

“The second is that you trust that I’ll always tell you the truth to the best of my abilities.” 

“Yes, Cas,” Dean says, automatically.

“Third, I’ll trust that you’re always telling the truth to the best of your abilities.” 

“Yes, Cas.” 

“Fourth, you’ll give me the gift of your voice and your thoughts. I’m not interested in docility.” 

Dean frowns. “Um. Ok.” 

“Now, tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“It sounds like — you don’t want me to be your sub at all. Which is — I get it. I’m kind of shitty at it.” Cas tilts his head but doesn’t respond, like he thinks Dean might have more to say. “I don’t want to be your charity case,” Dean finishes, sounding more pathetic about it than he meant to. 

“Do you remember the second rule?” Of course Dean does, and Cas has to know it. “I want to know more about you. I want to make you feel safe. I want to touch you. I want you here, and it’s not charity if I want it too.” 

Dean flushes and ducks his head, then remembers and raises his eyes again. 

“See?” Cas says, brushing his knuckles along Dean’s jaw. “You’re so good.” 

Dean shudders and his eyes shut tight against it. Defiance hurts, but showing the way his eyes prick and burn hurts more. 

“What’s your favorite movie? The one that makes you feel good every time you watch it.” 

“Don’t laugh,” Dean says. “But when we were kids, my little brother loved The Day After Tomorrow. We watched it every snow day.” 

“Where did you grow up that there were snow days?” 

“Kansas.” 

“I’m sure I can find it somewhere.” Cas looks away from Dean to grab his phone and pokes at it for a moment. “Ah, success!” 

The doorbell rings as Cas is scrolling Amazon on the tv. He leans down to kiss Dean’s forehead before getting up. Dean’s back is to the door, but surely the delivery guy can see him, obediently waiting for his dom. Instead of feeling ashamed, Dean feels a flutter of pleasure in his belly. 

The door shuts, the lock turns. “Can I get you something to drink? Beer, water, orange juice, Sprite?”

“Beer.” 

Cas comes back with two open beers and paper towels and, strangely, sits next to Dean, except Dean’s on a cushion and Cas on the hard floor. The movie starts, and it’s around the time they finish horrifyingly huge cheeseburgers with a bucket of sweet potato fries that Dean stops letting Cas point out scientific accuracies in silence. 

“Dude, it’s supposed to be fun, not a climatology class,” Dean says, rolling his eyes but still smiling. He likes the way Cas knows things, and the way he talks about the things he knows, like he’s excited to share. “Just go with it for now.” 

“Yes sir,” Cas says, his smile growing at Dean’s wide-eyed surprise. 

Dean has to fight the urge to look down, hoping a response will come to him. Instead all he says is, “Uh.” 

“On the couch,” Cas says, starting to pack up their trash. 

“I can do th—” 

Cas gives him a sharp look, and Dean struggles to his feet and onto the couch, waiting while Cas goes to the kitchen to toss the trash and come back with two more beers. “All right,” he says, opening his arms to Dean on the couch. “We’ll talk about the reality of polar vortexes later.” 

Dean lets Cas hold him, Cas’s hand possessive on his side under his shirt. At some point, Dean’s mid-disagreement about Jake Gyllenhaal when Cas says, “Stop.” 

Dean’s teeth click shut. 

“I just wanted you to know that I really like your smile,” Cas says. “Continue.” 

Dean swallows and it takes a second to find his thoughts again. “I mean, you’ve seen Donnie Darko, right?” 

“Haven’t heard of it. What, praytell, am I missing?” 

“There’s a rabbit,” Dean says. He can’t stop staring at Cas. He’s striking, the arresting color of his eyes, his indulgent smile, the shadow of scruff on his jaw. 

“A rabbit. Of course.” Cas stares back for the briefest moment, then kisses Dean. Like he wants to. 

The movie is still playing, but Dean stops hearing it, zeroing in on Cas’s mouth against his. After several long kisses, Cas’s hand in Dean’s hair tightens, and he uses it to pull Dean’s head back.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Cas says. 

“Um. Yeah.” 

“You should go home and rest once the movie is over.” 

Dean looks down. “I can go now.” 

“Absolutely not,” Cas says, and when Dean glances up, he’s smiling. “I have to know if Dennis Quaid saves the world.” 

“He doesn’t.” 

“I’m not particular surprised. Doms never do.” 

Dean laughs, and Cas seems pleased by it. “I guess you better pay attention then.” 

“I am,” Cas says, nuzzling against Dean’s jaw, mouth soft. “To the important parts.” 

Dean closes his eyes and clenches his hand in Cas’s shirt. 

“My lovely boy,” Cas whispers against his neck, and Dean must make a noise, because Cas says, “Can I call you mine?” 

“Y— yes.” 

“Good,” Cas says. The scrape of his teeth down Dean’s throat is an adoring threat:  _ I could, but I would never.  _

The movie finishes with Cas kissing Dean everywhere from forehead to the collar of his shirt while Dean holds his breath. 

“You need to go to bed,” Cas says when the credits finish. “Can I give you my number? I won’t take yours, so it’s up to you if you use it.” 

Dean blinks, trying to come out of the haze of belonging. He didn’t know he could feel the beauty of submission without violence. 

“Focus, sweetheart,” Cas says, smiling. Dean looks up to meet Cas’s eyes and Cas cradles his face in his palm. “You feel good, don’t you?” 

Dean flushes. “We didn’t even do anything.” 

“We watched an Oscar-worthy film,” Cas says, laughter in his eyes now. “Everyone is different. You just need to know you belong to someone, don’t you?” 

Dean’s face gets hotter. “Guess so.” 

“You’re a gift,” Cas says. “Thank you for what you’ve given me.” Before Dean can protest, he forges on, “Put on your shoes and I’ll give you my number.” 

Dean’s hands shake as he pulls on his boots, as he enters Cas’s number into his phone. 

Cas kisses him at the door. “No pressure, but I do hope I’ll hear from you.” 

Dean argues with himself on the entire drive home and through a couple of whiskey glasses before deciding to text Cas before the night seems even more like a dream. He still waits until he’s tucked into bed before saying something. 

**Dean:** This is Dean. Now you have my number too 

**Cas:** You were told to go to bed when you get home. 

Dean stares at his phone with wide eyes, long enough that another text comes in. 

**Cas:** Thank you for tonight. I think we should end it well by following my instruction this time: Go to sleep. Goodnight. 

Dean plugs in his phone and turns out the light. 

 

Dean wakes up with only one snooze and hums tunelessly while he showers. It feels like a good day to be alive, like the face in the mirror isn’t everything. Like his heart is full from submitting. 

It’s just after ten when Dean’s phone buzzes. 

**Cas:** Have you started work yet? 

**Dean:** Start at 7 usually

**Cas:** How do you feel today? 

**Dean:** I’m good. How are you? 

**Cas:** Busy, but not too busy to take care of you. I need you to eat at least one fruit or vegetable with your lunch. Send a picture to confirm. 

Stupidly,  _ busy  _ makes Dean’s heart sink. Busy  _ taking care of  _ other subs.

**Dean:** Should I eat now? 

**Cas:** If you’re hungry, but there’s no ticking clock. 

Dean doesn’t go so far as to not order bacon-wrapped meatloaf, but he does order a side of broccoli. Cas sends a smiley in response to the photo. 

 

**Cas:** I’m working tonight, but what time are you off work and are you free this evening? 

**Dean:** Whenever. Yeah what’s up? 

Dean doesn’t stare at his phone. He doesn’t, but he glances at it every handful of seconds like he might have missed a notification. He’s given up when one comes in. 

**Cas:** Be at 8704 Woodlawn Rd at 6pm. Lydia is expecting you.    
**Cas:** She’s a dom, but she knows who you belong to. 

Dean blushes and smiles and gives up on work not much longer. He feels a bit like an idiot for it, so he turns his music up and filters his joyful energy into cleaning his entire goddamn house. 

 

Cas is terrified. 

Dean is a wild horse, and earning his trust is a delicate process. He could shy away at any moment if Cas makes a mistake. Cas is being very, very careful. 

Lydia might be a risk, and even though Cas usually enjoys his night job, he spends the whole time wondering if Dean even accepted the offer.

**Cas:** Have you made it home? 

**Dean:** Why did you do that? 

**Cas:** I hoped you would enjoy it. Did you? 

**Dean:** Yeah. First massage and everything

**Cas:** Good boy. Thank you for accepting my gift. 

**Dean:** I’m sorry, I can’t afford to come back for a couple weeks 

Cas frowns and hits the call button. Dean picks up immediately, like Cas knew he would. “Hello Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it clear last time we spent time together. I’m not interested in your money; I’m interested in you.” 

Dean makes the softest noise in the back of his throat, like a whisper of pleasure. 

“Are you interested in me?” 

“I’m a shitty sub. I can’t do it right.” 

“That’s not what I asked, but what do you mean?” 

“You — you know what I’m like. I’m not…” 

“Yes. I know what you’re like, and I like it very much,” Cas says. Dean is silent. “Are you interested in me?” 

“Yes,” Dean says, and Cas lets out the breath he’d been holding. He hopes Dean doesn’t hear it. 

“Let me check my calendar and I’ll text you. Is that ok?” 

“Oh. Yeah. That’s ok.” 

“I have a task for you: before bed, you need to write down three things you like about yourself,” Cas says. “You don’t have to tell me what they are. I trust you to do this for me.” 

“Yes, Cas.” 

“Good boy. Sleep well.” 

 

It’s Cas’s fantasy that Dean smiles bashfully every time given a direction. He imagines Dean kneeling with a pretty blush on his cheeks. He imagines Dean with a similar, darker red flush across his ass. He imagines the way Dean laughs when he forgets himself, when he’s confident enough in his dom’s affections to lower his guard. He’s so beautiful with a smile on his mouth. 

But he’s beautiful answering his door with soft post-shower hair and a pair of medium-wash jeans with a ripped knee, too. Cas kisses him right away, at least in part so he doesn’t lose his nerve. 

“Hi,” Dean says when Cas pulls back. 

“It’s good to see you,” Cas responds. 

Dean blushes and ducks his head, though he remembers the rules and looks up before Cas can decide if he should mention it. “Good boy,” Cas has the pleasure of saying instead, brushing his knuckles along Dean’s jaw. Dean leans into it like he does every touch, like he isn’t used to being touched kindly. Cas’s heart aches and there’s a protective and possessive roar in his spine. 

“Um,” Dean says. “I — dinner’s ready.” 

Dinner is good, and Cas is effusive with his praise in between Dean’s tentative — and then animated and grinning — stories. 

“Do you like your job?” Dean says as they’re poking at the remains of their meals. “Beating up and reading to people all day.” 

“This isn’t my primary source of income,” Cas says. “Just moonlighting. I’m an ASL interpreter.” 

“Like — sign language?” 

“Yes,” Cas says. He lets Dean start clearing the table, because he guesses Dean would be antsy otherwise. 

“That’s pretty cool.” 

“It is,” Cas says, smiling. It’s rare that someone doesn’t ask if there was some sort of tragedy that led him to an interest in sign language. Dean’s probably tired of being asked about tragedy, too. 

Dean smiles back. 

It’s a really good moment, at a little dining nook in Dean’s small kitchen, the whole room smelling like a good meal, Dean blooming for him. 

“I do like it,” Cas says. “As ridiculous as this sounds, I like helping people. However, I haven’t read to anyone else.” 

“If you wanted, you could…” 

“Read to you? Beat you up?” 

Dean’s shoulders tense. “Yeah.” 

“I’d love to read to you. I have something I think you’ll like. Where would you be most comfortable?” 

“I have a really nice bed,” Dean says. 

“Lead the way.” 

Dean’s room is nice, walls a comfortable blue, and overly-neat just like the rest of his house, like he’d gone through the whole place with a fine-toothed comb before Cas arrived. Cas wonders what Dean expected to happen in his bedroom, if Cas made the right choice. 

Dean goes to his knees before Cas can tell him not to. Something swoops in Cas’s stomach to look down at him, so hopeful. “Dean,” Cas says, quietly, and he leans down and kisses Dean’s forehead. 

“Put on your softest sleeping clothes. You’re required to be cozy,” Cas says, still bent over him. “And then into the bed.” 

Dean laughs and Cas is glad his smile is hidden in Dean’s hair. “Cozy is good,” Dean says, tilting his head up so Cas can kiss him.

Cas stops himself from staring as Dean changes, and then guides him so Cas can sit between his legs, back to chest. “I want you to relax,” Cas says. “You can touch me however you’d like.” 

Dean doesn’t move right away. Cas starts reading, melting into Dean as he relaxes. Cas is delighted to feel Dean nuzzle against the back of his neck, for his hands to slide over Cas’s shoulders and then around his middle. 

Cas must keep reading, but all he’s thinking about is Dean’s slowly roaming hands. He’s not sure he’s breathing when Dean’s hand slides under his shirt, up his stomach. 

_ “Stories, great flapping ribbons of shaped space-time, have been—”  _ Dean’s thumb brushes across one of Cas’s nipples at the same time that he kisses Cas’s neck, and then again, slow and wet. Cas takes a shaky breath and tells himself to get his shit together.  _ “ —have been blowing and uncoiling around the universe since the beginning of time. And they have evolved.” _

“Cas,” Dean breathes, too soft to be an interruption, but Cas pauses anyway. Waits. One of Dean’s hands drifts to the button on his jeans. “Please?” 

“Please what?” 

“Can I touch you?”

Cas realizes there are the tiniest tremors vibrating through Dean. Cas drops his phone and turns in Dean’s arms in a hurry, and Dean turns his face away just as fast. “Dean,” Cas says, quiet and firm. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’ve been so good,” Cas says. There’s the briefest moment where delight ticks the corner of Dean’s mouth upward, and it makes Cas’s chest clench. “You’ve been so patient while I was selfish.” 

“You’re not —” 

“Dean. Are there kinds of sex that you like? That you would like with me, to be specific.” 

Dean looks back at Cas, frowning. “Um…” 

“There were sexual acts listed on your allowables, but I need your consent.” 

“Is there, uh, something you had in mind?” Dean says. “I don’t really know — I haven’t — I mean, I have. But not a lot.” 

“I’ve been dreaming about fucking you with my tongue, actually.” 

“Dreaming,” Dean repeats, faintly. Cas holds down his smile. “Guess you’ll have to move so we can — that.” 

Cas sits on his heels near the end of the bed, watching this time as Dean pulls his shirt off, wiggles his hips for his flannel pants to come off. Cas devours the curves of his biceps, the straight line of his waist, the bow of his legs. 

“Should I turn over?” 

Cas nods and keeps watching as Dean goes to hands and knees, presenting himself to Cas. For Cas. 

There are scars on his back from cruelly-wielded whips and knives. There are beauty marks scattered over his ass, and Cas bends to kiss each one, hands cupping Dean’s hips. 

Cas isn’t prepared for this. There was training when he started with SSC, but not the kind of training that would make him ready for easing Dean out from under the hands that have hurt him. There’s something hidden but singing under there, if Cas is good enough. 

“Shh,” Cas says, pressing kisses into the small of Dean’s back. “Relax. I need you to enjoy yourself. Do you understand?” 

Dean lets out a deflating breath, head hanging heavy between his elbows. “Ok.” 

Cas circles just the tip of his tongue over Dean’s hole at first. His guess that no one has ever done this to Dean before is confirmed with Dean’s small gasp of surprise at the first real lick. Cas does it again, and Dean’s toes curl. 

Cas doesn’t know what it’s like for subs — or even other doms — but for him it’s the purest high, having a sub accept his gifts with pleasure. He’s addicted to the way it feels with Dean especially, like he’ll never do anything more important in his life. It’s easy to lose himself listening to Dean’s whines and moans as Cas works him open. 

Dean falls onto his elbows and Cas uses the excuse to praise him, pushing a spit-slick thumb in and out of him, just barely. “Good boy,” Cas murmurs. “You’re so lovely. Let me hear you.” 

The next time Cas pushes the tip of his tongue into Dean, he chokes on a cry and comes, his entire body shuddering with it. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry — I —” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“I didn’t ask permission,” Dean says, muffled where he’s hiding in the pillow, still panting from his orgasm. 

“I didn’t ask you to.” Cas slides his hand up Dean’s spine to stroke his hair. “Look at me.” 

Dean turns his head and Cas’s heart pounds to see him flush-cheeked and glaze-eyed. 

“Good boy. Do you think you can move so I can pull the blanket?” 

Dean stands, but Cas can see him a little shaky and makes quick work of bundling up the comforter and leaving it near the doorway. Cas gestures to the bed and Dean climbs in, sighing into the sheets. Cas stares at him for a minute, his easy sprawl, the throw of scars across his face and down his chest, the rise of his hip. 

“Cas?” Dean says, without opening his eyes. 

“I’m just admiring you,” Cas says. 

“You’re still in all your clothes.” 

“That’s easily fixable.” 

Dean blinks his eyes open sluggishly to watch Cas undress. “You’re so hot.” 

Cas snorts. “I’m probably not painful to look at.” 

When Cas climbs into bed, Dean struggles to his knees, leaning over to leave tickling kisses down the center of Cas’s chest. Cas thinks about protesting that Dean doesn’t have to, but Dean’s flushed and happy and Cas may never learn to say no to him. 

 

**Cas:** You’ll have a package when you get home. Don’t open it. Call me when you’re ready for bed. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

“Hey, Cas. How are you?” 

“One of the other doms has appendicitis,” Cas says. “I may need to take some of her appointments this week, so I suspect this will be my last reasonable bedtime for awhile. And you, darling?” 

“Going to miss you this week, it sounds like.” 

“I have no intention in neglecting you, starting with your gift tonight. Put me on speakerphone and open it.” 

Cas listens to the package crinkling as Dean tears into it. A silence. “I…” 

“Are they nice? I can’t wait to see you in them,” Cas says. “Sizing was a bit of a gamble, though.” 

Cas had asked Dean to confess something he was embarrassed about, and Dean shared that he used to have a pair of panties. That he wore sometimes.  _ But it was stupid,  _ he said, like Cas doesn’t want to know everything that makes him feel good. 

The color was a gamble, too, but Cas went with a pale pink slip with black lace accents and a pair of matching panties. “They’re — they’re nice,” Dean says. 

“Put them on, please,” Cas says. “Will you send me a picture?” 

A silence. “Yeah. Ok. Just a minute.” 

Cas waits. “Ok,” Dean says finally. “Let me, um, try to take a picture.” 

It took a lot of coaxing and praising to get Dean to start taking pictures at all, but Cas adores every inch of him, wants anything Dean will give him. Dean is so much more than he thinks.

Cas’s phone buzzes when it comes in. It’s a long moment before he can breathe. He’s desperate to see it in person, to mouth at Dean’s cock through the panties until Dean whispers  _ please. _ “You look lovely,” he says, which is a ridiculous understatement.

“Yeah, ok,” Dean scoffs. 

“Excuse me?” Cas says, his tone sharpening. 

Silence for a long moment. “I meant, thanks.” 

Cas laughs. “Is it comfortable enough to wear for bed?” 

“Yeah, it’s — it’s nice.” 

“Then do that, please. You can touch yourself, but not come.” 

“Ok.” 

“Good boy,” Cas says, wishing he could see the way Dean’s face changes when he says it. “Get some sleep.” 

 

Meg’s clients come to her because they need an extreme sadist. Playing that role is exhausting, and after days of it he just wants  _ his  _ sub, wants to ground himself in his heartbeat. 

**Cas:** Are you up? 

**Dean:** Hey 

**Cas:** :) What are you doing? 

**Dean:** Movie night with Char 

There’s a stab of disappointment in Cas’s gut, but he swallows it down. 

**Cas:** Have fun, sweetheart. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. 

**Dean:** She’s headed out soon. Want to come over? There’s pasta 

Cas is sleep-deprived, racoon eyed, and probably has a case of tennis elbow, but he agrees and rushes himself through a shower. 

On the whole drive to Dean’s, Cas insists he won’t throw himself at Dean right away. And he doesn’t, especially since Dean’s smile falls as soon as he opens the door. “Hey, man,” he says, reaching to steady Cas by the elbow. “You ok?” 

“I missed you,” Cas says, which is close enough to the truth. 

Dean smiles, so bright. “I missed you, too. Can I take care of you?” 

“Is Charlie here?” 

Dean blushes curiously pink. “I told her to get out of here, because — I’m havin’ a real hard time not hitting my knees right now, you know?” 

“What a smart boy you are.” Cas crowds Dean back into the house, kisses him. “You said there was food.” 

“Yeah, coming right up. Sit, baby.” 

Cas kisses him again, smiling, and says, “Are you telling me what to do?” 

He expects a laughing apology, but instead Dean licks his lips and says, “Gonna do something about it?” 

Something goes razor-edged inside Cas, like the taste of blood in his mouth. He grabs Dean’s chin, rougher than he ever is with him, and watches Dean smile, just briefly. “Go to the bedroom and take off your clothes. I expect obedience.” 

Cas is pleased to see that Dean rushes away as soon as he lets go of him. An hour ago all Cas wanted was long kisses and holding Dean close until he feels like himself again, but he’s suddenly reminded that sometimes he wants to force submission. Wants Dean’s skin mottled with incoming bruises, wants to make him beg. 

Cas takes his time getting a couple of beers, even tidies up the dishes from Dean and Charlie’s date. He saw the excitement in Dean’s eyes and wants him aching with anticipation before Cas even touches him again. 

He finds Dean kneeling, nude, next to his bed, worrying at his bottom lip. “Good boy,” Cas says, leaning down to give Dean a soft kiss. “I have another rule I haven’t told you. I will never, ever hurt you in a way you don’t like, and that means you’ll tell me if you aren’t liking something. This is non-negotiable.” 

Dean’s eyes widen. “Ok. Got it.” 

Cas slaps him. Not hard enough to even make his arm twinge, but Dean makes the softest, most beautiful noise, his eyelashes fluttering. There’s a glowing buzz under Cas’s skin that he’s not familiar with, something that only Dean makes him feel. Something that makes his hands want to sing. 

Cas caresses Dean’s cheek and Dean nuzzles into it, still looking up at Cas. He’s struck, like a punch in the stomach, by the full weight of Dean’s trust. It’s a gift he doesn’t particularly deserve, and he promises himself — again — to tread carefully. 

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says, and Dean flushes, and Cas hits him again to deepen the pink on his cheeks. “On the bed, face down.” 

Dean goes, and Cas takes a moment to trace his fingertips lightly down one of the scars on Dean’s back. Dean shivers. “Would you like to be punished further?” 

When Dean doesn’t answer right away, Cas clarifies, “I’d like to spank you with just my hand.” 

Cas sees Dean’s breath catch, the way it does when Cas whispers worship into his skin. “Yes. You can — yes.” 

Cas spanks him once, a light clap against freckled skin. And again, harder, and by the fifth hit, Dean is arching into it, fingers clenching in the sheets. Cas pauses to squeeze and rub Dean’s ass. It’s starting to get hot under his touch. 

“Do you think you deserve more punishment?” 

“Yes,” Dean says, barely a whisper. 

“You’re wrong,” Cas says. “You’re so good, Dean, and you’re everything I could ever want in a submissive.” 

“Yeah, I bet you tell all your subs that.” 

Being with Dean is a flurry of visceral reactions. Needles this time, the tortured feeling of failing the person he’s promised to take care of. “Turn over.” 

Dean flips and doesn’t meet Cas’s eyes. He doesn’t breathe once while Cas is getting undressed, not even when Cas crawls into bed next to him, nuzzling up against the side of his face. 

“Look at me,” Cas says. “I don’t see other people outside of work. Do you?” 

“Uh, no,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like — it’s not like doms are ever interested in me.” 

Cas doesn’t notice Dean’s scars consciously any more than he notices his freckles — he likes to touch and kiss and worship every part of him often, likes the way it feels to take him in slowly and deliberately, but most of the time he’s just  _ Dean.  _ Funny, kind, dorky, adorable, hard-working, lovely. 

“You’re infuriating,” Cas says, and realizes the mistake when Dean flinches and shrinks back. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry. You think you’re ugly because of your scars, and  _ that’s _ infuriating. You’re —” Cas isn’t used to feeling speechless, frustrated with his fumbling words. It feels impotent to say, “You’re beautiful.” 

He touches Dean’s face, thumb brushing across his cheek, and continues, “I like your scars because they’re a part of you.” 

Dean’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to —” 

“As soon as I opened the door…” Cas starts, then doesn’t know how to finish. He takes a deep breath, rehearses in his head to make sure it’s a question. “Do you want to be my boyfriend?” 

“What?” Dean says, clearly taken aback. 

“Ah,” Cas says. He’s the one to break eye contact this time. “I’ve — misunderstood.” 

“You’re asking me to be your boyfriend.” 

Cas winces. “It doesn’t appear to be going well.” 

“Boyfriend, but not submissive?” 

“You’re a gift,” Cas says. It’s something he’s repeated to Dean often enough that it rolls off his tongue easily. “I’ll treasure anything you choose to give.” 

Dean blushes, and Cas can’t entirely tamp down his smile. Dean says, “I’d like both.” 

 

Spinning his fork in a bowl of fettuccine in Dean’s living room, Cas says, “I thought I would like hitting you, but I didn’t.” 

“Really?” Dean says, surprised. 

“Maybe just because I took those clients of Meg’s this week. I like that it’s different with you. Did you like it?” 

Dean bites at his lip. “It’s not as bad with you as — the other times.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, and then, “Would it be ok if I stayed tonight?” 

“Yeah, you look exhausted.” Dean takes Cas’s dishes before Cas can stop him. Cas is happy to slump into the couch, listening to his  _ boyfriend  _ clean up in the kitchen. Cas has never been elated like this at a single word. 

Dean takes Cas’s hands when he comes back and pulls him to his feet. “There’s nothing to apologize for,” Dean says.

Cas doesn’t argue further, but there’s still something in him afraid that he’s chipped away at the gossamer trust he’s built between them. But Dean smiles and kisses Cas once they’re standing in front of each other, loans him a toothbrush, pulls the blankets over them both in bed. 

Before Dean can nestle under Cas’s chin, Cas pulls Dean’s arm around him and lays across his chest, head over his heart. There’s a pause — 213 heartbeats — and then Dean strokes his fingers through Cas’s hair, holding him a little tighter. “Are you ok?” 

“Yes,” Cas says. “I have you.” 

 

Dean’s trembling by the time Cas is mouthing at his cock through satin. It feels like Cas has been torturing him with sensation for eons, but it couldn’t have been that long since his arms are still comfortable, raised above him to hold the spindles of the headboard. 

“Oh, fuck,” Dean whispers. He’s still not used to the sight of Cas between his legs, the flash of his tongue as he drags it up Dean’s cock, lavender fabric darkening. 

Dean’s knees tighten around Cas’s ribs, and Cas murmurs  _ good boy  _ as he nuzzles into the cut of Dean’s hip. Dean whimpers, arches his back even though he knows Cas won’t let himself be rushed. “Be polite,” Cas says, and Dean laughs breathlessly. 

Cas tugs the panties down just enough to pull out Dean’s cock and suck softly at the head. Dean’s fingers clench around the headboard as Cas takes him in an increment at a time, all the way into the wet clench of his throat.

Dean’s eyes flutter closed despite his best efforts as Cas turns him into a keening mess. This is the cruelest thing Cas does to him, not letting him touch. Dean loves the scrape of Cas’s stubble under the pads of his fingers, the softness of his hair. Loves to touch Cas’s cheek and feel the shape of his own cock in Cas’s mouth. 

“Cas — I’m —” Dean warns. 

Cas hums encouragingly and swallows as Dean spills down his throat, then crawls up to straddle across Dean’s shoulders and jerk off over his face. Cas comes with a gasp and a shudder, striping Dean’s upturned cheeks. 

Dean licks his lips and they both pant in silence for a few moments. “Hey,” Dean says. “None in my eyes this time.” 

Cas snorts, and then tumbles off to the side when he starts giggling. Dean’s cheeks are already getting sticky and he’s struck by how strange it is, that he’d never had anything like this in his life before he met Cas. Easy and free. And lucky, too, to kneel at the feet of a kind and gentle man. 

“I’ve apologized multiple times,” Cas says. “I refuse to do it again.” 

Dean grins. Cas smiles back, then kisses the round of Dean’s shoulder. “Go clean yourself up so we can read.” 

As usual, Dean doesn’t look in the mirror, but he doesn’t cringe away when Cas kisses his cheek when they’re back in bed, either. It’s easy, lucky, free, to close his eyes and listen to the rumble of Cas’s voice. 

_ “‘But things could go wrong, so I want to tell you something while it’s just the two of us. I want to tell you how much I love you.’ She spoke simply, with no drama. _

_ “‘I know you do,’ he said, ‘but I’ll be damned if I know why.’ _

_ “‘Because you made me feel whole,’ she said.” _

**Author's Note:**

> [debt: the first 5000 years by david graeber](https://www.amazon.com/Debt-Updated-Expanded-First-Years/dp/1612194192/ref=sr_1_1?crid=391XU5UUUCSY0&keywords=debt+the+first+5000+years+by+david+graeber&qid=1555438873&s=gateway&sprefix=debt%3A+%2Caps%2C1061&sr=8-1)  
> [witches abroad by terry pratchett](https://www.amazon.com/Witches-Abroad-Discworld-Terry-Pratchett/dp/0062237365/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2SOAD3KK3I7FW&keywords=witches+abroad+terry+pratchett&qid=1555438916&s=gateway&sprefix=witches+abroa%2Caps%2C185&sr=8-1)  
> [wolves of the calla by stephen king](https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Tower-Wolves-Calla/dp/0743251628/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=wolves+of+the+calla&qid=1555438935&s=gateway&sr=8-1)
> 
>  [reallyelegantsharkfish on tumblr](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com)


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